


A Requiem for the Trilogy

by AstriferousSprite



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars RPF
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, god i hope not that would suck, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/pseuds/AstriferousSprite
Summary: rian johnson is a punk bitch





	A Requiem for the Trilogy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ktavnukkah, with the prompt _mourning_.  
>  Ok, maybe not a serious interpretation, but hey, just heard spoilers and now I'm terrified and heartbroken about this movie!! So that's fun.

“We need to talk.”

Rian says nothing as Finn walks up to him, arms folded. “So,” he says, slamming his hand on the single space of desk not covered with Kylo Ren merch. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Rian, trying unconvincingly to sound innocent. “What was what all about?”

“The movie,” says Finn, glaring at the baby-faced behemoth of a director sitting in front of him. “I just saw the finished product, and let me tell you, I am _thoroughly_ disappointed.”

Rian once again blinks his soulless eyes. “Why?” he asks as if he’s a petulant child—which, to be honest, he kind of is.

Finn slams his hands on the desk again, rattling the heads of the twenty-six Kylo funkos positioned delicately upon its surface. “What the hell happened to all the scenes we filmed earlier, Johnson?”

The manchild blinks.

Sighing, Finn reaches into the satchel at his side and slaps a copy of the script down. A shirtless Kylo action figure nearby falls flat onto its hideous face. “The rewrites. The revisions you promised would be included.”

“I don’t remember promising anything,” he whines, gingerly grabbing the action figure and repositioning it onto its feet.

Finn laughs bitterly. “One of the first shots we filmed, Rian,” he says, waving his hand. “I deflected Phasma’s blaster bolt, and you _loved_ it. Hell,” he continues, thumbing through the script, “you were so _excited_ to finally introduce my parents, but where are they?” He waves the script. “Where are my god damn parents, Rian? And why was that scene even cut in the first place?”

“Oh, that.” The discount Joss Whedon leans back in his chair, stroking his poor excuse of a chin. “Right. Well, you see, we had to cut those,” he explains. “There just had to be room for more… important scenes.”

At this, he lovingly strokes the front of the Kylo figure still posed precariously in front of him.

Finn sighs. “Ok, forget those scenes. We need to talk about what actually made it.” He sighed, stuffing the script back into his satchel. “You made a fool of me up there.”

The aged-up Gerber baby shrugs. “Every movie needs some comedy to it.”

“But not at the expense of one person!” he shouts, waving his hands. “It’s just scene after scene of me getting tazed and slammed into the ground, what gives?”

Rian mutters something incoherent, though Finn swears he can catch a “comedy relief” among his words.

“Anything you want to say to that?”

“Moral ambiguity,” mutters Cabbage Patch Johnson, still transfixed upon the putrid mug of the shirtless figurine.

He rolls his eyes.

“Finn, I dunno, I guess I’m sorry,” he says, with all the sincerity of a swamp goblin.

“Sure you are,” says Finn bitterly, turning around to leave, deliberately knocking over the life-sized cardboard cutout of Kylo blocking his way. “Force, I hope JJ cleans this mess up.”


End file.
